I had decided today would be girl's day.
I was taking my daughter to meet my sister-in-law and niece to get pedicures, watch "17 Again", and have a coney for lunch.
I get manicures at this place in the mall called Le Fleur. It's very elegant what with the fancy decor and classical music playing. But the same people you would expect to see at California Nail work there. Only with Mozart instead of Lady Gaga.
We met at 10 this morning for pedicures before our excursion to the movie theater. They seated us like queens in massaging chairs with bubbling pools of warm water to bathe our feet. They placed me next to my 10 year old daughter who couldn't contain her laughter as they pummiced and tickled her prepubescent feet.
Some guy worked on my feet. He was probably (definitely) younger than me. I'm always skeptical of dudes who do nails, but he was good. He didn't tickle me or hurt me or act like he was disgusted to be scrubbing my ancient feet in spite of all the calloused skin and toe hair.
"Do you wook owt?"
"What?" I asked.
"Do... you... wook owt?" he replied.
"I run a little bit."
"You got vewy nice body. Skeeny but stwong" he says.
My 10 year old looks at me like someone has just told her the most hysterical joke EVER.
"Thank you," I replied, flushing bright red.
My daughter is chortling into her shoulder, trying to appear inconspicuous but unsuccessful nonetheless.
I say to her, "All of this will be yours someday" and with a ballerina-like arm motion gesture to the length of my body to which she rolls her eyes.
She rolled her eyes in a "Dear Lord, I certainly hope not" kind of way. Not a "My mother is a lunatic" kind of way. Looking back on it, it might have been a combination eye-roll of the two thoughts.
Either way, I totally wook out. I skeeny, but I stwong. Watch out.
Thank you, oriental pedicurist, for making my day.